Astracius encounters Counterpunch
Coliseum - The Swordfish This massive, circular room serves as the central arena for the Swordfish, allowing it to host numerous games and events. Like the rest of the ship, this area is made of a white substance that /looks/ more like stone than metal, although whatever it is, it seems to serve well enough to hold the ship together. The richly carved stadium is lined with row upon row of standard seating, with several more luxurious balconies for the wealthier passengers. The stadium floor is sunken, and can be flooded for naval battles, or re-arranged to serve other purposes. Frequently, pit traps, nets, trip-wires and lasers provide additional challenge to any warriors or racers in the competition area below. What a waste of time. Counterpunch thinks, reloading his twin cig holder and letting them self light. Who cares if you out on top in an event that's so restricted that you can guess the winners before it all starts. These Olympics can be useful though. People come from all over because other people come from all over and so on. Like a chain reaction from a well placed ingnition charge. Counterpunch feels charged. He's been charged fpr dinners, charged for tips, charged for gifts all to sweeten the contacts he has to ensure that his trip, unlike the event, is not a waste of time. Even the little things like complimentary nibbles, who's nibbled them and which ones have been left untouched all point to it. A Quintesson's here. No doubt the the most scienfifically and technologically capable race that he can think of and, handily, they couldn't care less for Autobots or Decepticons. Objective, in a sense. Counterpunch knows the best way to find someone in an ever moving crowd is to stand still. That's exactly what he's doing. That and smoking. Interstellar Olympics. PAH! Astracius wouldn't normally lower himself to bother with the 'sporting' events that the rest of the galaxy, especially the slaves, find so thrilling. However they're being held on Earth, and the Maximus Dominae has a rather special interest in this planet. And so he has gone out of his way somewhat to be present. HE even managed to out-lawyer the Galactic morons when they tried to prevent him being here or being protected by the truce. Afterall a lot of alien races would love to see his face (or all 5 of them) on a plater. Alas the truce is for one and all. So he even subjected himself to acting as a referee. On the plus side, he has had his idea of an event approved, which should gain him something from all this. Meanwhile he makes his way through the crowds present, ignoring the stalls as he makes his way back to his own little private enclosure, a small shuttle that is acting as his home for now (having decided not to take the Secutor here). Oddly, he doesn't really need the Sharkticon escort he has, as most people present make sure to let him have a very clear path. Well. That wasn't quite what he expected. That's not just any old Quint strolling by. If Counterpunch is right that's . . . Astracius? He's so high up the tree in terms of the Qunits he's hovering a good galaxy above it. Makes things harder. A lot harder. However chances like this do not come up often, if ever, and Counterpunch needs this. Counterpunch decides to walk over quite cooly and calmly. Getting to within a respectable distance of the private area set out for Astracius Counterpunch makes his presence felt by coughing, loudly, and saying, "Maximus Dominae, I believe, I need some of your precious time. Can you spare some?" Pull the head off. Check. Make head and body continue to function independently. Check. Prevent it from crapping on the carpet. Not checked. Astracius sighs as he reads through his assistants report. So far these puppies, even after years of experimentations, continue to elude the final solution to their problem. But hey, maybe keep the head functioning will avoid the need to solve the problem. As Astracius puts down the datapad he is reading, he hears his title being used by a slave. Curious, most slaves are sensible with this truce and just ignore him. He looks over to it, recognises the marking as one of the military brand. Could this be a trap... no even they aren;t foolish enough to break this truce, much as some with they would. Curious, and always one to sense an opportunity, Astracius hovers a little closer to Counterpunch. "And what would I possibly gain from a slave that would make up for my valuable time being lost?" Astracius transforms into its Astracius mode. Counterpunch chuckles, "I'd need to work very, very hard to work my way up to the point of being qualified of being a slave. Tha'ts what makes me useful to many. It could be similarly useful to you. Insight is a wondeful thing. You could come up with an infinite amount of solutions to a problem. All theoretically viable. However, when it comes to the stage of testing, even the most viable theories fail. I'm broken and admitedly a maniac and a monster. I'm also infuriatingly, inexplicably and incalculable more right from my insight as a result. That's what I can bring to the table. Worth your time? Time enough to at least to hear what I want?" The Quintesson considers this for a moment, is pretty sure the Decepticon just said he was worthless and should be killed. But then he was only half listening as he got struck with an idea for a new experiment, and had to consider where he would find a planet that nobody would miss. Maybe that red one in this solar system, nobody uses it these days. Realising the slave just asked a question Astracius quickly reviews what the slave said, and ponders, his mind already about 3 steps ahead of the conversation given the predictability of the slaves. " Moving forward, grinning a faceless grin, Counterpunch steps fully into the enclosure and offers a cig to the Quintesson. "Okay. Convincer time kiddo. You're here for the Olympics as much about as I am a monkey. Earth looks like a dream com true as it's resource rich, both in terms of materials and subjects, but it's a bit strange isn't it? You've never quite had an insight into the humans and, when the little organic squishy things have thwarted your predecessors in the past, you still can't make face nor face nor face nor face nor face nor tentacle about how they did it. I do. I don't just think like other Decepticons. I'm free from being slaved to the directives encoded upon me by Vector Sigma. I can thing like an Autobot, Decepticon, Quintesson, Human or Googleplexer as and when I choose. I'll happily give you how to deal with any and all of them, provide you with the methods of access so you don't have to wait for retarded events like this and . . . other negociables too. A weapon and some information's all I want from you." Astracius is always rather amused at how the details of his various interactions with the humans get muddied over time. But then organic only races have such flimsy memories. And mechanical races are... well far to digital to truly understand the organics. IT's why the Quintessons are the clearly superior race. However, he considers the usefulness of the military units offer, "And just what would this cost me?" Astracius doesn't even dignify the offer of the cigarette with a response. Letting the third cig self light and smoking it along with the other two Counterpunch says, "Here's the deal. All the goodies and more for three things. One, time may come that I need to get away from all of this. Cybertronians, Unicronians . . . the lot. If you're satisfied with what I deliver I'd like a discrete option to stay temporairily at the Quintesson Epire's pleasure. If it ever comes up. If you're satisfied with the product and it's delvery." "Two. I transform. Most cybertronians do. I want a weapon that permanently removes a mode from a Cybertronian. A specialised tool for a specialised problem. Three. I want to better myself. Expand my mind. You know more about Cybertronian, and probably, Unicronian physiology than all living within those categories put together. I want to learn as much as I can about this subject. You have a way of forcing that data in my head? Cool. Give me some files and let me read up? Awesome. Whichever way works best. You can understand that, although there's an enormous difference in our stations in life . . . all things strive to be better than they are." Now this is definitely very intriguing. A slave that wishes to remove a mode? Not even the lame red winebago seems to want his mode gone, so Astracius assumes it would need to be something done on an unwilling subject. Even more so, a slave willing to go to the extent of trusting a Quintesson, and Astracius no less, to do so. That's... unpredicted. Which further intrigues Astracius. "So, just so we are clear. You want a safe location to stay hidden from your fellow slaves." Well, as he considers this more, he knows of at least one other military slave who ran from her own faction. "You want a way to remove a mode from a Cybertron, presumably on an enemy I would assume? And you want access to Quintesson files on your race and the Unicronians?" Well, this is certainly a lot. But the flip side is it could result in significant payment. And the slave is not even demanding it in advance of his... services. Curious. "One . . . yes. I'd like the option to have a safe haven if, at some point in the future, I need a temporary haven." Counterpunch says, taking another draw, "Two . . . correct. I possess a facility with varios cybertronians that, under broad parameters, would be useful test subjects shoul you need them for development. Three . . . correct again. If there's a way to accelerate this knowldge into my framework that would be ideal but in not the raw data alone will do nicely." Venting and taking another draw he says, "I know this is an . . . unusual arrangement. In an unusual configuration. But I'm that undefinable outlying bit of data in a world of otherwise predictable data. I couldn't have hoped to gain, much less keep, your attentions to pretend to be other than I was. I also realise you'll want to see acceptable results before wanting to commit any resources to my ventures so I'll prove myself first so there's a satisfactory result. Few arrangements like this happen . . . I see no reason to waste this . . . or future opportunities for co-operation." Being unpredictable, simply means there are motivations as yet unseen. Elements of an equation Astracius is not yet aware of. And while there are other things that certainly make this an interesting offer, that is the bit that seals the deal for him. His intricate millenia spanning plans and goals cannot be threatened by an unforseen influence. Hovering over to a cabinet, Astracius removes something from it, before turning back to the slave. "Very well. I will make arrangements to have a safe location prepared should you need it, one which you may check out in due course to ensure it is secure." And he will have an option to ensure it is secure from Quintessons... though only if the slave realises he should ask for that. "As for removal of a mode. That is an intricate piece of work. And I am already aware of significant information about the process. If you are looking for a weapon that would do it though... well it would likely be extremely painful on the target. But not an impossible task to create such a weapon." Indeed Astracius seems to recall toying with the idea a few millenium ago, when he was on Cybertron, but shelving it before it was even in alpha testing. "As for the data. Yes I can provide that. Indeed as the other two requests will require longer to develop, then we can view the data as being an ongoing payment. The more we get out of you, the more data we will supply. This seems fair to Astracius at least. "And yes, we will need some evidence of your... usefullness to our efforts before committing to anything long term. Perhaps... yes. There were humans here at one point known as Militants. Some remain but most are now gone. I would wish you to obtain all information the EDC have on the Militants from their time here. Number of troops, locations they used, suspected allies. I already know much, so will know if you provide false information." A test, well no shock there surely. And asking a Decepticon to gain information from the EDC, well that should definitely show if this slave can be of use. Nodding Counterpunch says, "The EDC and Autobots are allied. Like any alliance . . . both sides may be witholding information from each other. You don't mind if I . . . 'borrow' both copies of thier data? Is that acceptable?" Counterpunch takes another draw. He knows, with the objective viewpoint that only he has, that the Quintessons are an advanced form of life . . . but he's surprised exactly how refined they are. As far as power negociations go . . . this has been something of a pleasure. "Presuming that's acceptable, and unless there's anything else I shouldn't take up more of your valuable time." Counterpunch waits patiently to recieve further details and to be dismissed. Ahhh, both Autobot and EDC, that is more than Astracius had expected. Which is both good, and of note to be careful with. "Yes, both would be acceptable." Astracius holds out the item he retreived from the cabinet. It is, on viewing, a radio code chip thiny-mi-bob. "This will allow you to transmit to myself, or a representative should I be unreachable." "Understood. As soon as I have the information it shall be yours and now . . . I take my leave." Counterpunch is already gone. In many ways it's also like he was never there to begin with.